The One That Got Away

10 - Birdie

As I awoke alone in my apartment, I groaned, my eyes dancing over the mess of papers strewn about the floor. Everything Cason owned that could be salvaged was gone. It was as if we'd never existed. Had I not made a mess of his files, it would have been like a bad dream. I padded to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee, yawning from a long night of reading. I stayed up until the sun was peeking through the blinds.

Grabbing my phone, I scrolled through social media as I waited for my coffee to brew. I noticed Cason had changed his relationship status and virtually deleted me from his life. I uploaded a new profile picture without him and tossed my phone on my bed before pouring my beverage into my to-go mug. Maybe fresh air would help clear my head.

I set out to walk toward the river, where all the tourists hang out and buy knick-knacks, stopping to admire a street artist's work.

"That one could use more red," A deep voice called from beside me, startling me. My eyes danced over the man I'd spoken to at the library before I narrowed them.

"Now, who's the stalker?" I bit back as I turned to continue down the sidewalk, struggling to hide my smirk. Someone as rude as him shouldn't be able to look that good.

"I wasn't following you. I come down here every morning."

"You're following me now," I called back over my shoulder. I glanced back at him in time to catch his grin as he shook his head.

I scoffed, rolling my eyes even though he couldn't see my face.

"Fair enough. I'm following you. Aren't you going to run away? Or scream for help?"

I stopped turning to face him as I looked him up and down. "You don't look that scary to me, and I have not had nearly enough coffee to run."

His eyes narrowed before he shook his head. "Want to join me for breakfast?"

I pretended to think about it for a moment before shaking my head and turning to continue down the road. "Not a chance in Hell." Elijah fell into step behind me as we made our way to Jelly's Bakery.

"Hell is empty. All the devils are here." He pulled open the door, smirking as he motioned for me to enter.

"Shakespeare? Is that supposed to impress me?" I tilted my head and stepped inside, immediately assaulted by the smell of muffins and sugary snacks. "I can buy my own breakfast," I snapped as he stepped in behind me in line. I could feel his warm breath fan over my ear as he leaned in closer.

"Are you always this stubborn, Birdie?"

"That seems to be the general consensus, yes," I admitted, struggling against the shiver that threatened to roll down my spine as he spoke.

"You weren't spanked enough as a child?"

I gasped, drawing the attention of the barista as she waited for me to order.

"The usual, please." I handed my mug to her. "And a blueberry muffin."

I held out my debit card for her before turning around to give him a piece of my mind. But he was closer than I'd anticipated and had to crane my neck to look into his cerulean eyes that were flanked with dark lashes. His face seemed to be the only part of his body not cloaked in ink, but somehow more intimidating.

"No, as a matter of fact. I wasn't spanked. I was a daddy's girl if you must know."

A grunt left his throat that I felt vibrate through my belly and his eyes drifted down to my lips before settling back on mine.

"What?" I asked, cocking my head to the side. I got the feeling most women didn't challenge him. With his looks their clothes probably spontaneously combust with just a glare.

"Did you really just say that without a hint of irony?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"We both know how your daddy taught people a lesson, Birdie."

"How do you..." I felt my heart lodge in my throat. I didn't talk about my father to anyone. Now this man, this creep, was trying to psychoanalyze my life in a damn coffee shop. I was used to the occasional reporter or even obsessed weirdo hunting me down every few years to try to get an autograph. "I get it. You stan my dad and you thought, what? You'd try to sleep with me so you could brag about it on the internet? Maybe get a story published in a smut magazine?"

"Now it all makes sense," he shrugged before leaning down low enough for me to smell the mint of his breath before his lips settled next to my ear. "That's why you act like such a little brat, isn't it, Birdie? You need someone to punish you."

"Leave me alone before I blow my rape whistle," I barked, shoving hard against his muscular chest, but he didn't budge. Chuckling, he held up his palms in surrender.

"Do it," he challenged, his eyes locked on mine.

"Ma'am," the barista called from behind me. I spun on my heels, grabbing my food and hurrying across the room to a bistro table that sat directly in front of the giant bay window so I could people-watch as I devoured my breakfast.